


who let the cats out??

by swordboys



Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Pre-Canon, perfectly non-traumatic shenanigans, pre-stowaway days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 03:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22425775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swordboys/pseuds/swordboys
Summary: (previously "cat's out of the bag" because i can't stick to a single pun/reference lane)the writer devs said that damon once got a tiger, but cal shut that shit down... 2nite we're pressing f for damon and his tiger: may they live forever in the annals of ao3. :') mildly humorous if you think knives are funny.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	who let the cats out??

**Author's Note:**

> guys what about the inherent eroticism of _friendship??_

"Is that... what I think it is?"

Damon freezes. Lights are out in the living quarters of the ship, and he had even taken precautions to time his movements in and out of his room for when everyone should have been asleep... and yet.

Bash's delighted face pops into the dimly lit hallway. "Kitty!"

Damon's never been surer that God is dead, or at the very least that They live on only through some very cruel and personal grudge against him, Damon Reznor, specifically.

"Bash."

Bash's left eye glows red in the darkness as he approaches, grinning widely, presumably to lean down and coo at the cat in Damon's arms. However, his excitement evaporates as he comes to a sudden stop about a foot away from Damon.

"Ooh. Okay. Never mind, not a kitty."

Damon snorts. "Yes, obviously. I'm glad the eye's still working."

The "kitty" in question purrs, except it is maybe less of a purr and more of a low growl. Even without Bash's enhanced vision, it clearly cuts a silhouette that is larger and bulkier than would an ordinary house cat. Impatiently, it paws its way out of Damon's grip, leaping to the ground and causing Bash to jump back, arms flailing.

Damon raises an eyebrow at Bash as it disappears into Damon's room, moving with less feline grace than might be expected.

"Bad memories, things with that many teeth and claws," Bash mutters by way of explanation. "You know, with June and, um, that. That time."

"Sure, take all the time you need. Process that trauma." Damon waves a dismissive hand as he heads towards his room. "Sweet dreams."

"Hey, wait, come on. What was that?"

"None of your business." He turns around to shoot Bash a final warning glare.

Bash looks at Damon with mild exasperation. "Please, there's no way you can keep that—whatever that is—a secret for long."

"It's been going fine for the past two weeks, so all you need to do is just keep your mouth shut, bot boy."

Bash's eyes widen. "You picked that up from Teranium? Damon, you know that—"

"It's just a tiger."

There is a pause as Bash's face is torn between amusement and disbelief. "Oh, Damon."

A muffled voice coming from the neighboring room singsongs, "Someone's going to be in trouble with _Commander_."

Damon's hands are itching for his knife as he hisses, "The last thing I need is for you two to wake up the whole fucking crew, so I'll only ask nicely once—"

"If that's from Teranium, that's definitely not a tiger. Or whatever baby tigers are called."

Ayame slips into the hallway, sneaking up behind Bash. "Boo."

Bash flinches, if only just slightly, and casts Aya an amused look that seems to say, _nice try_. She pouts. He proceeds to tell Damon in the loudest whisper, "No one's going to hear us, other than June, maybe. Cal's conked out."

Aya follows Bash's lead, using a similarly theatrical tone that can only technically be classified as a whisper. "Yeah, no need to be scared of Captain Calderon. I know he looks scary, but he's actually a _huge_ softie. Really."

Damon really wishes he hadn't removed the paralyzing agent from his hidden dagger. It would only take a tiny cut, and wouldn't cause any long-term damage, anyway. Damn ship rules.

He exhales.

"How about, if you keep very quiet, I'll let you have this memory disc of K-pop tracks." He produces a grey chip from his pocket, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. "I hear that it's all recently rediscovered, 2000's-era."

Alarm crosses Bash's face. "How did you get that?"

"Oh, Oppo was holding it for you and I told them I'd pass it along." He closes his fist over the chip. "But it wouldn't be any trouble for me to look after it for a little longer." 

"Wait, Oppo doesn't even like you! Why would they—"

Ayame covers Bash's mouth. "And what's in it for me?"

"Cal's rules suck."

"And?"

"You like cats."

For a brief moment, Bash manages to escape Ayame's grip. "Wait, did Oppo give you that cat thing?"

She clamps her hand back down over his face. "And?"

"You'll get my vote the next time you try to pass the motion to get the dancing pole installed in the exercise module."

"The _living_ module."

Damon's eyebrow twitches. "Fine."

"Deal." Aya extends one hand to shake on it, and removes the other from Bash's mouth to collect the grey disc. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Four days later, a groggily furious Calderon storms into Bash's room to yell at him about blasting Red Velvet again at 3am, when he hears a deeply unsettling noise, followed by a string of curses, coming from the room next door. He is unamused.

Moments later, he is very awake, and also very scratched up. And _extremely_ unamused.

Suffice it to say, what passes for a tiger on Cursa is apparently a little different than what the rest of the human population of Seleota would agree upon. A 'Nolaxian Snow Tiger,' apparently. And so what if it hungered for the meat of creatures usually found in Teranium fighting rings? Damon could have provided for it well enough, whatever "ethical considerations" Cal had about acquiring its food notwithstanding. And keeping the crew on their toes for attacks from the shadows would have only helped keep them alive, right? Free, 24/7, life-or-death training—the best and most effective kind.

He'd already named it.

...anyway, if God isn't already dead, Damon is definitely coming for Them next.

Bash walks up to Damon, seated on the floor of the doorway to his room, and looks at the dark expression on his face. He swallows.

"Okay, I can see that you're mad," he starts. For a second, his courage fails him, but he somehow finds the nerve to stand withing stabbing range, fidgeting with his hands behind his back. "But..."

He pulls out one of his wrenches, now with a cat's face messily drawn onto the head. "Truce?"

Damon looks up. "I am _this_ close to stabbing your arm, just to see if you can still feel it."

The distance between his pointer finger and thumb is very small.

"It's named Pussywrench!"

Damon gives Bash a long, long look.

"Great. Good night, Pussywrench."

**Author's Note:**

> canon-compliant based on what can be gleaned from game and tumblr lore... i think.
> 
> thanks for reading! feel free to find me at [my tumblr](https://aureliansgalley.tumblr.com/).


End file.
